


your body, safe with mine

by beautifullights



Series: Save an X-wing, Ride a Pilot [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Gentle Dom Finn, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Finn, Praise Kink, Riding, Safe Sane and Consensual, Trust, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullights/pseuds/beautifullights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn has strong feelings about control. Namely: having it. Wielding it. Being in fucking charge, for once in his life. The idea that control can be used to make another human being feel <em>loved:</em> sexy beyond words. </p><p>Poe also has strong feelings about control. Namely: while restraints are no longer guaranteed to cause a panic attack, they are a definite no. Pain? Also a no. Trauma and sex do not mix well. </p><p>Fortunately, they're both grown-ass men capable of having an emotionally honest and mature conversation. They can talk about sex, Force damn it. The result: </p><p>“Hands up,” Finn murmurs. “Hold onto the headboard. And don’t let go.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	your body, safe with mine

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [cicaklah](http://cicaklah.tumblr.com/) for tempting me to smut with her fantastic NSFW Stormpilot headcanon party last night!
> 
> TW: brief mention of panic attack, light D/s.

It does not come as a surprise to him or Poe that he has strong feelings about control. Namely: having it. Wielding it. Being in fucking _charge_ , for once in his life. Being promoted to captain helped, for sure, but there are still some—may always be some—scars in his hindbrain regarding the taking and giving of orders. When in charge, Finn feels like himself. Settles into his own skin. Feels _safe._

The thing is, it’s not just the feeling of _control_ itself that he loves. It’s the feeling of control applied respectfully, caringly, _lovingly_. The idea that he can take someone into his arms and issue them orders: sexy. That those orders would be obeyed: sexier. That the one obeying the orders would feel _pleasure_ from it—that there was a way of applying control in a way that made another human being feel appreciated, secure, safe, connected, _loved:_ sexy beyond words. _That_ , most of all, is what he loves about control.  

And, of course, most of all: he loves Poe. Poe, who has some (understandable, one might say) hangups concerning the typical instruments of domination play. Restraints, while no longer guaranteed to result in a panic attack, still require—may always require—slow breathing and focused relaxation to manage the encroaching terror. A lapse in Poe’s concentration, a startling movement by Finn, a movement halted by the cuffs on his wrists—and Poe’s curled into himself on the bed, shaking, and Finn’s crouched over him, heart pounding, calling him back to himself.

Following one botched and quickly aborted attempt, therefore, it becomes quite clear to Finn that of restraints and Poe and sex, he will have to choose two. Poe is in, obviously. Sex, also obviously. Restraints? Those he can live without.

He explains as much to Poe, one night, in an attempt at an emotionally honest and mature conversation. They are, of course, both grown-ass men with responsibilities to those under their command. They can talk about sex, Force damn it. Talk about what they want, and are curious about, and can't stand.

The result is a treaty, nearly as complex as the one General Organa is currently working on with the last remnants of the First Order. A treaty that puts words to Poe's desire to be safe, to be loved. To Finn’s desire to take care of Poe, above all else. To show himself that power can be used for good. To bring both of them together, linked by trust.

Like all treaties, it requires periodic refurbishment, but—for the vast majority of the time, at least—it works. It works  _wonderfully._ For both of them. And that, Finn thinks, is as good an argument for democracy as anything.

 

 

Poe’s eyes are closed. He’s stretched out on the bed, naked from head to toe, one long line of gleaming golden skin and long muscles. Finn’s suckling on one of his nipples, one hand on Poe’s shoulder, the other spread flat across Poe’s stomach. He moves slowly—slowly—slowly across Poe’s chest to the other nipple, suckles the dusky circlet, and eases down Poe’s side, pressing the softest of kisses along the way.

Poe sighs and relaxes further under Finn’s touch, if that’s even possible at this point. Finn’s been worshipping his body for the past…oh…half hour now? Hour? Two hours? Who knows. Kissing led to little bite-marks on his jaw, led to stroking the lines of his body, led to making sure that he’d kissed every inch of Poe’s skin.

His lover is stretched out beneath him now like a quiet lake, glowing under the warm afternoon sun. Past the point of words, deep into hums and soft murmurs and a sound that bears a remarkable resemblance to a pittin’s purr. Finn moves lower, lower, down his stomach, across his pelvis, sucks a soft mark into his hip, moves past his erection and down his thigh. Poe’s hand moves slowly up to Finn’s temple, cups the back of his head, runs over his close-cropped hair.

Finn looks up, meets eyes gone dark with lust. “Do you trust me?” he asks, for the third time that night.

“ _YES_ ,” Poe whispers. The answer is the same as each of the prior times Finn had asked, but the tone—the _tone_ , fervent and heartfelt and _needing,_ is Finn’s signal that Poe isn’t just ready, or even _ready_ , but  _READY._

Finn smiles, low and smug. “Do you,” he murmurs, running a hand up the inside of Poe’s thigh. “Hmm.”

Poe just watches him, mouth parted slightly, achingly hard. A nebula of dark hair floats up around his head, framing flushed cheeks and kiss-reddened lips.

“Hands up,” Finn says at last, voice low and powerful. “Hold onto the headboard. And don’t let go.”

“Why not?” Poe’s grinning as he takes hold of the headboard. He knows the answer already, but—but there’s a deep thrill in seeing Finn’s eyes narrow as he answers, slipping into his own role.

“If you let go, you don’t come,” Finn growls. He reaches beneath the bed and pulls out a small box. “So. Hold still.” He clambers up the bed up to kneel by Poe’s head. He knows, by the heated light in Poe’s eyes, and the complete absence of that wary edge to his glance, that Poe is exactly where he should be.

Poe’s expectant gaze slides into a crooked smirk as he sees what Finn’s holding. “Could just turn off the lights, you know.”

“Then _I_ wouldn’t be able to enjoy the sight of you wriggling beneath me.” Finn stretches the band over Poe’s thick curls and slips the blindfold down until it sits snug and low over Poe’s eyes. Poe tips his head back against the pillows.

Finn takes a moment to admire the sight—gold skin, black satyn, dark hair, red lips. He strokes one hand down the side of Poe’s face just to admire the way his lover smiles, turns into Finn’s hand, and kisses his fingers.

Enough playtime. Without any warning, Finn switches his grip and takes a firm hold of Poe’s jaw. He presses at the hinge until Poe is forced to open his mouth, shoves in the ball gag, and buckles it firmly behind Poe’s head. Poe’s breath comes faster— “Feels good?” Finn rasps.

Poe nods, short jerky movements. Turns his head blindly towards Finn, stretches forward until his mouth finds Finn’s hand again, presses another swift kiss to his palm.

“Good,” Finn murmurs. He slides one hand down Poe’s arm until he relaxes again. “You’re so good for me, Poe. So perfect. Do you even know how beautiful you are, stretched out for me, waiting for my touch?”

Finn slips the little clicker into Poe’s right hand where he grips the smooth bars of the headboard. “Show me.” Poe clicks it twice. “Yes. Just like that.” He bends down and kisses Poe, feels his lover’s lips strain to meet his around the gag. “Ready?”

Poe nods. Finn slips back down to kneel between Poe’s legs. Slicks up his fingers, presses one in. Holds still while Poe adjusts, then grins as his lover’s hips rock back to meet his finger. He fucks Poe in and out, slowly-slowly, crooks his finger up, and grins wider as Poe’s breath catches with a spike of arousal.

“Careful there,” Finn warns, seeing Poe’s grip shift on the headboard. Poe immediately grabs it tighter, knuckles whitening around the durasteel rods. “Good,” Finn says, to cover the sound of a slicked finger on his other hand slipping inside his own rim. “Just like that. You wait for my touch. I’ll take care of you. Feels good?”

Poe nods, very aroused. His cock jerks with its own sign of approval, leaking precum from the tip. Finn bends closer to lick a spiral around the tip, just to hear the way Poe moans at the contact.

Two fingers in, then three, and Poe’s bucking up to meet him at each thrust. “Ready for me?” Finn growls. “You’re wide open, on my fingers. Waiting to be filled. Do you need it yet? Do you _need_ it?”

Poe nods fervently. When Finn’s fingers slide out, he groans at the sudden emptiness and pulls his ankles up to his ass, knees in the air, to give Finn better access. But he doesn’t know, of course—unless he has truly incredible hearing—that Finn has been fingering himself open at the same time, moving in tandem to hide the extra _sluck_ of his fingers inside his own ass.

Poe is, therefore, caught by complete surprise when he feels not the soft velvet-heat of Finn’s cock but the cool glide of silicone, pressing in and filling up every empty space inside him. He jerks under Finn’s hands and _groans_ deep in his throat as he adjusts to the stretch.

“How is it?”

Poe nods, nods again, tips his head back against the pillows, breathes hard, shifts around the intrusion. His cock twitches again, dripping with precum. Finn leans down and licks a long strip from root to head, just to hear Poe groan again, low and animal and _needing_. Poe’s hips roll up, up, up, begging for more. His knuckles tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen around the headboard.

And that’s when Finn flicks the small switch at the base of the plug. Poe jerks in place with a muffled shout. Shouts again, wraps his ankles around Finn and pulls his lover closer to him. Finn lowers his mouth over Poe’s cock as Poe trembles beneath him, trying desperately not to buck up into Finn’s mouth, shuddering each time the vibrator brushes into his prostate.

And that’s—that’s when Finn’s gut clenches, tight and hot and overwhelmed with love. He runs his hands down Poe’s sides, fingers spreading over the tight muscles of his stomach, wrapping around the hard curve of his hips, diving down between his thighs, sliding around the flare of heat where Poe’s rim stretches around the vibrator humming inside him.

Finally Finn lifts off Poe’s cock, licks the bitter precum off his lips. “Enjoying yourself?” He’s not particularly surprised to find his voice gone rough with need. Poe nods, features slack and more than slightly overwhelmed. “Show me,” Finn rasps, needing to be sure. Poe’s ankles tighten around him again. Even his thighs are shaking with the vibrator’s reflected power. “Good,” Finn murmurs. He leans down to press a kiss to either side of the deep V of Poe’s pelvis. Poe hums at the touch, breath hitching.

Finn re-slicks one hand, wraps it around Poe’s cock, and pulls up in two hard strokes—as though it was possible for Poe to be any harder right now. He kneels up between Poe’s legs, positions himself, and slides down onto Poe’s cock.

Poe _shouts_ and bucks up, shoulders straining against the pull of his own hands on the headboard. Bracing his hands on Poe’s hips, Finn lifts himself up and slides back down, closing his eyes at the overwhelming stretch of Poe’s cock inside him.

The vibrator’s hum echoes up through Poe into Finn as well, sending a pleasant buzz up through his limbs. He bottoms out until he can feel the warm press of Poe’s balls beneath his rim, slides up until just the head remains inside him, reseats himself, rocks up again. The stretch, the silken slide of Poe’s cock inside him—Finn can feel his arousal starting to coil into place at the base of his spine.

Poe shudders and _shudders_ as Finn’s movements jostle the vibrator inside him. Finn looks down at him, dazed with love. There’s a fine sheen of sweat across his lover’s body, sticking his curls to his forehead.

Knuckles white on the headboard. Lips stretched and reddened around the gag. Dark satyn blindfold low and snug over his eyes. One long gleaming line of gold, and pleasure, and love. Beautiful, beautiful,  _beautiful—_

Poe arches up to meet Finn, head tipped back, throat bared to the low light of the bunk. The sudden tightening of his ankles around Finn’s back is his only warning—and then Poe’s spilling inside him with a jerk and a shout. Finn wraps one hand around his own cock, pulling—pulling—and then he’s coming too, spilling white ropes of cum across Poe’s sweat-soaked skin.

Finn slumps in place for a moment, heart pounding in his ears. But the vibrator is still thrumming beneath them, and Poe’s starting to shift beneath him, oversensitive. Finn slides off at once, flicks the switch to _off_ , and strokes his lover’s hip as he slowly, carefully, slides the plug out.

Poe groans at the sudden emptiness, but relaxes back down to the mattress, boneless with post-coital satiation. Finn pulls a damp cloth from the box, cleans Poe’s stomach, and wipes off his own thighs where Poe’s cum is starting to trickle out. He tosses it into the hamper across the room, slides back up the bed, and slots his body in beside Poe’s.

“You did so well,” Finn whispers. Rests one hand on his lover’s shoulder, strokes up his arm to where Poe’s hands still grip the headboard. “So well. My beautiful, beautiful, beloved. So well. You’re perfect. Do you know that? The most perfect man I’ve ever met.”

Finger by finger, Finn eases Poe’s tight grip on the headboard and lowers his lover’s arms back down to his sides. Throws the clicker back towards the box—misses, ok, his aim does not improve post-orgasm—and rubs the knots in Poe’s shoulders, soothing the strain where Poe pulled against his own bond. “How was it?” Finn asks, very soft.

Poe nods, nods, nods again. Every line of his body is relaxed now, boneless, replete.

“Good,” Finn murmurs. “I’m glad. So glad. You’re so good, Poe. So good. Incredible, right here, with me. The way you move. The way you _moan_. The way you feel me, and—and _rise_ with me, and your _heart_ , and—” He’s not quite sure if he’s making sense, now. He rarely does, until a few more neurons manage to come back online. But Poe doesn’t usually make much sense now either, so Finn’s pretty sure it’s ok. And he means what he says, every word. Even when the words don’t quite fit together in proper Basic sentences.

Poe leans back against Finn now, spooning into him. Finn tucks his legs beneath Poe’s knees and curls them up into a double zigzag of legs and knees and ankles. Rests his hand on the side of Poe’s face, over the buckle of the gag, just to let Poe know that he’s there, ready. “I love you, Poe,” he whispers. “So much. You have no _idea_ how much.”

Poe breathes in, breathes out. Quiet, still, calm. At last, he nods. At the signal, Finn unclasps the buckles and eases the gag out of Poe’s mouth. Poe stretches his jaw around it, slowly bringing a hand up to massage the stiffness. He collapses back against Finn’s chest with a heartfelt sigh, lips curling up into a peaceful smile. “So good to me,” he rasps. “So—” He reaches behind him to cup Finn’s cheek, still blindfolded. “So good.”

“Of course,” Finn murmurs. “Of course.” He curls his fingers in Poe’s hair, untangles the knots, twists the thick locks into tight whorls. Counts the stray white hairs, smooths over the shock of white atop Poe’s head where a blaster grazed his skull years ago. Thanks the Force, as always, for the reflexes that made that only a graze and not far worse.

“Ok,” Poe whispers at last.

Finn slips his fingers beneath the satyn band and slides the blindfold up and off Poe’s eyes. His lover blinks and squints into the low light of the bunk.

“Welcome back,” Finn murmurs. Poe hums and tips his head back. Finn presses a kiss to the back of his head, to his neck, to the warm expanse of his shoulder. Wraps a hand around Poe’s waist and rubs small circles into his side as his lover adjusts to the light.

“Water?” Finn asks. Poe nods. Finn slips off the bed, pads across the room, and returns with a glass of water. Sits on the bed, slips an arm beneath Poe’s shoulders, eases his lover up, cradles him against his chest, tips the glass back to his lips. Poe drinks, slow small sips, tongue flicking out to catch stray drops. Nods at last, lets Finn lower him back to the bed.

Finn refills the glass and drinks it down, desperately thirsty, then returns to the bed and curls around his lover again. “How was it?” he murmurs.

“Ask me when I have more words,” Poe smirks, clearly starting to come back to himself.

“That good, huh?”

“And more.” Poe stretches slowly, curling back against Finn. Finn wraps an arm over Poe’s waist. Poe takes his hand in his warm, rough-callused grasp. “Love you too, you know.”

“I know.”

“Nerfherder.” Poe shakes his head. “One of these days, I’m going to—”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Poe nods. “Something. So. You know. Behave yourself.”

Finn presses his nose into the back of Poe’s neck to muffle a laugh. “When do I not?”

“Hmm.” Poe thinks for a moment. “Well. Good. Keep it that way.”

“Yes, Commander,” Finn smirks.

He’s surprised, as always by how easy it is to relinquish power after their play. But realigning as equals now is as much an act of trust, for him, as submitting is for Poe. An act of respect. An act of _love_.

Because it is _love_ that he feels for this man in his arms, this fiercely brave man who allows him to take control, trusting that he will be cared for. That Finn will make his body feel good, listen to his needs, bring him back to himself.

“I love you, Poe.” Finn’s voice shakes, very slightly. “Thank you— _thank you._ ”

Poe reaches back with their joined hands to stroke Finn’s cheek. “Anytime, buddy,” he rasps. “Anytime.” He heaves a sigh and burrows deeper into the pillows. “By anytime, of course,” he mumbles, “I mean any time once I’ve recovered the full use of my limbs. So, you know, tomorrow morning. Should be room in the fresher for two, yeah?”

“We-ell,” Finn drawls, “there was room for two yesterday morning. And a couple days before that. And…”

“ _Nerfherder_.” Poe shakes his head again, grinning from ear to ear. “Go to sleep before I have to come over there and whack you.”

“Whack me, hmm?” Finn rocks his hips up to Poe’s ass. “This, of course, from the man who has won a sparring match against me a grand total of once— _once!”_

“Distracted by your shoulders,” Poe mumbles. “And your ass. And that shit-eating smile you pull out the moment you start to get the upper hand, which is always.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Believe me,” Poe smirks. “Night like this? Impossible to forget.”

“Mmm?” Finn can’t suppress a pleased grin. “Huh. Well. That’s good, I guess.”

“You, on the other hand, are simply impossible.”

Finn shrugs. “I try.”

Poe shakes his head. “Kriff. The things I put up with.”

“You know it’s only because I love you.”

“I do.” Poe looks back over his shoulder and beams at Finn. “And you know what? I’m adding snarking to the ‘anytime’ list.”

“Good.” Finn yawns and settles into place. “But—I think I’ll take advantage of that tomorrow. In the fresher, maybe? Because now—” He yawns again. ”Now—”

Poe laughs. “Good night, buddy.”

“G’night.” Finn closes his eyes. The world is just right, where he is: head on the pillow, body stretched out on the mattress, sheets tangled somewhere by his feet, warm night air on his skin, lover in his arms. Somewhere far beyond them, the galaxy whirls in imperceptibly slow motion. Right here, right now: they are as safe as it gets, in the middle of a war. Safer than Finn’s ever been, and far more _himself_ , and far— _far—_ more loved.

“I love you, Poe,” he whispers, listening to his lover’s soft, even breath. “So much.”

_Thank you, thank you, thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and concrits always appreciated! Or come say hi on [tumblr.](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com/)


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